Bring Me To Life
by Mrs. Hiddleston
Summary: Soon, you don't even feel guilty anymore. His wrongs don't seem wrong, and you need him. And you know that even if you wanted to, you could never, ever, leave him. Because you could never, ever feel the way you feel with him with anybody else.


_Bring Me to Life_

He's just a boy, and you don't see what is so incredibly dangerous about him. Harry wants to kill him, to destroy him, to make the idea of his existence a mere memory.

But you think that would be _such _a waste of glorious talent.

You've never agreed with anything he supports, and as he speaks to you, you can see just how narrow minded he really is. You wonder if that makes you more intelligent than him, because you can see that blurry lines which he refuses to acknowledge.

_How can you see into my eyes?_

_Like open doors_

_Leading you down into my core_

_Where I've become so numb_

Despite all of his prejudices, he is _extremely _intelligent, a fact that you're willing to admit. It flatters you that he is aware of your intelligence, too, that he speaks to you as an equal, instead of speaking down to you like he does to the rest of your fellow students. You don't know if it's because he thinks you _are _his equal, or if it's because you're the only one that even comes close to his level.

Judging by the look in his eyes every time the subject of your heritage comes up, you're willing to bet it's the latter.

Even his hatred of what you are doesn't stop you from thinking he's _amazing_.

_Without a soul_

_My spirit sleeping somewhere cold_

_Until you find it there and lead _

_It back home_

He starts to sit by you in class, or even incline his head in greeting as you pass each other in the corridors, and Harry's warning comes like fire on a warm summer night.

"I don't know what he wants from you, Mi, but from now on, it'd probably be best if you stayed away from him. Don't want him getting _too _interested in you, do we?"

Harry says it with a slightly joking tone in his voice, but you can see the worry deep in his green eyes. You wonder if he's more concerned that Riddle's getting attached, or that you are.

You try to abide Harry's warning for a few days, but in the end, it becomes too much too bear. You miss your deep conversations, on theories and on wrong versus right, and you go to the library on the evening of third day. He's sitting at the table that you two always sit at, and when you sit down across from him, he looks up at smirks premeditatedly, like he knew you'd be back all along. You give him a glare before pulling out your books, and are immediately immersed in your conversation, the way his mouth moves when he speaks, and those deep, dark eyes.

_Wake me up inside_

_Wake me up inside_

_Call my name and save me from the dark_

_Bid my blood to run_

_Before I come undone_

_Save me from the nothing I've become_

You're no longer debating with yourself as you move to sit next to him in class, not hesitating to give him a warm smile, which he counters with a smirk. You don't flinch anymore as he lifts his hand to stroke your hair absently, a seemingly unconscious action as he listens to the teacher. You don't even defend yourself when Harry and Ron asked why you're still hanging around him when it's obvious that they can't make a difference, that they can't change the future. You don't have an answer.

His ideas and concepts seem less and less unorthodox as he explains them more and more in depth to you. It doesn't even seem like dark magic anymore, when he shows you how to convince someone to get what you want, how to influence them and control them. It is, after all, the easiest way to get what you want, to get power, and you are nothing if not ambitious.

_Now that I know what I'm without _

_You can't just leave me_

_Breath into me and make me real_

_Bring me to life_

You're walking with Ron and Harry one day when how much you've changed has come to both their and your attention. Times are getting darker, even here in the 1940's, and Grindelwald has claimed a strong hold over Europe. The three of you are walking through Hogsmeade, when you here a snap in the bushes. You send the killing curse into the brush without even thinking, and are relieved when it turns out just to be a rabbit. You hastily stuff away your wand.

"Thought it might've been one of Grindelwald's men," you say to Harry and Ron, because, really, how else can you explain how you just managed to use the killing curse without further incentive.

You inform Riddle that you used it when you return. The two of you are sitting in the room of requirement. It's become a sort of haven for both of you, when the library is overstuffed with Ravenclaws.

Instead of looking horrified, like Ron and Harry, he tilts his glass in your direction, eyes sparkling with pride. You justify your actions with the rationalization that you're merely proud that you could manage such a spell, not craving Riddle's approval. But you don't pull away when he reaches over and strokes your hair in that same soothing, sensual way that he does in class, invoking a shiver from you that only he could release.

You start to forget that you're here for a mission, you're here to stop the future wars from happening, and get lost in the complete and utter nirvana that is Tom Riddle.

_Wake me up inside_

_Wake me up inside_

_Call my name and save me from the dark_

_Bid my blood to run_

_Before I come undone_

_Save me from the nothing I've become_

You understand, now, how all those people were deceived by him. His looks, his voice, even the way he moved was enthralling. You know he can hurt you, and that he wouldn't hesitate to, but that both terrifies and excites you.

And when he pays attention to you, only you, his dark eyes resting solely on your face, unwavering and undistracted, you feel pride and pleasure and an irretrievable need to please. You _want _to please him, you want him to be impressed by you. More often than not, he is, and that makes you feel _so damn good_.

_Bring me to life_

_I've been living a lie, there's nothing inside_

_Bring me to life_

It's a few weeks after Christmas break when it happens. The two of you are in library again, both working on an essay for Transfiguration. You mention to him that he should avoid placing a horcrux in the lake by the orphanage, because Harry had already found that one. By now, he has discovered that the three of you are from the future, and that you know everything about him, and despite the fact that he's irrevocably evil, you're telling him this because you don't _want _him to die. He looks up at you, surprise and satisfaction flashing through his eyes before they become emotionless again.

You're pleased but not altogether shocked when he hastily pulls you up to the room of requirement, slams the door behind you, and immediately begins kissing you assiduously.

_Frozen inside without your touch without your love_

_Darling only you are the life among the dead_

Two weeks before the term lets out, Harry and Ron decide to return to the future. That first month after _the kiss_, when you're strolling around the school hand in hand with _Tom Marvolo Riddle_, you see nothing but disappointment in their eyes, but strangely, you feel no guilt. You graduate second in your class, a fact which your ever-so-modest boyfriend seems to relish in gloating about. The two of you buy a small flat in London, and he goes on to work at Borgin and Burkes. You take up a career in healing, and find that you've never felt so much passion for something. You feel like maybe you aren't losing all of yourself to Riddle, because there's still a part of you that wants to help people, to make them feel better.

It's so much _easier _to ignore the darkness in him when he's nothing but perfect around you. He has his Death Eater meetings once a month, and he'll disappear off into the night. He doesn't need to tell you where he's going, because you already know. A part of you feels angry at him, because you don't understand why the part of him that he is when he's with you can't be him all the time, but then he gets home, and kisses you, and all your anger dissipates.

He asked you to marry him in the spring, although it's not much of question when he knows you won't say no. There's no big crowd, and you don't wear a long, white traditional gown, the kind that you always imagined yourself in, but you're happy just the same. You always you'd stay together anyway, because he's so possessive of you, but a part of you is happy that he's confirming that he wants you around for a while.

Even if he is the most evil wizard in history, you can't help but smile shyly when he tells you you're beautiful, or blush when he kisses your neck. You wonder what it would be like if Harry and Ron could see you now. See you grin like a lovestruck school girl when you hear the door slam shut in the afternoon, see you run to greet him, leap up and hug him round the neck, your legs wrapped around his waist. See him smirk and say in a teasing voice, "Miss me?" And see you roll your eyes and kiss him.

And you aren't surprised to see yourself beside him, after all these years have passed. It doesn't revolt you anymore, seeing all the destruction he's caused, it doesn't make you want to turn away from him. Instead, you draw closer to him, letting him simply hold you, as a reminder that, although he's hurt _so many people_, he'd never hurt you.

_Wake me up inside_

_Wake me up inside_

_Call my name and save me from the dark_

_Bid my blood to run_

_Before I come undone_

_Save me from the nothing I've become_

And you aren't surprised to see yourself beside him, on a day that you remember so well, the great battle of Hogwarts. Though you're both in your seventies now, you could pass for a pair of thirty-year-olds. Together you had found a way to work around the whole snake-face-without-a-nose dilemma, and now, he stood beside you, handsome as ever, a triumphant smirk on his face as he observes the defiant students standing in front of him. You stand beside him quietly, not speaking, staring unseeingly in front of you. You smile as he recounts his victory with the Death Eaters that night, looking at you every so often and reaching under the table to give your hand a squeeze.

_Bring me to life_

_I've been living a lie, there's nothing inside_

And it doesn't feel wrong anymore. His wrongs seem less wrong, and you're dependance on him seems right. And you know that even if you wanted to, you could never, _ever, _leave him.

Because you could never, _ever _feel the way you feel with him, with _anybody _else.

_Bring me to life_


End file.
